A Boy and an Akara Ball

A BOY AND AN AKARA BALL

The rhythm of his heart stops
Eyes darting in Cartesian fashion
Settles on man clad in black before him
The cool evening breeze
Makes him sweat and carries with it
An avalanche of smells, some of-
The pool of amber urine at his feet
And the inviting boli and akara balls
His stomach growls with fury
Reminding him of his mission; inviting
Wrapping and eating him up
Eyeball darts again; left-right-right-left
Like ball drama in a ping pong game
Tongue in mouth, saliva gone
Farting fat lady shoves him out of the way
And cursing chewing stick hawker into it
Both invoke memories of his father
And sometimes Mama too
Flurries of thoughts swell the space
Inside his head as anger builds
Choking him and setting the tear free
The hate, the cynicism, the knocks, his fate
His stomach churns the pain increasing
The hunger makes his head swool
Pushes him across the muddy road
A chasm between life and death
Leg in gutter, he made for the balls
Reality hits; cacophony of shouts
Woman wielding stiletto; men in black
Market women all in chase
The voice in his ears sings
“Eat before you die”
He bit off a chunk and ate
Hit by a bullion van, driver fleeing
He died food still in throat
Hands, some akimbo, some wiping tears
Glared at the spasmic body
Of a lonely and homeless boy
None could tell the tale of him
The tale of a boy we knew© Endi
Port Harcourt,
Dec. 2005